Visionary
by crazyplotthot
Summary: The moment Sybill Trelawney makes the right prediction at the wrong time, she cherishes all her mother has given her •RoR, TGS, QFLC Round 6 Oneshot• For Sienna. Stay strong.


**Visionary**

 **.x.X.x.**

 _~CrazyPlotQueen~_

The first time Sybill Trelawney made a prediction that was bound to be right, she didn't know it.

She put her face in the wind as her mother drove down the highway, cherishing the unusually warm spring day. It had been a cold winter in London, and she was enjoying the bit of sun that was peeking out behind the slate colored sky, her pale face tilted up as a small smile slipped onto her face.

"Sybill, careful now. I don't want you slipping out that window," a woman's voice drawled from the driver's seat, quick and snappy with an American Southern accent. Her mother, an aged woman of thirty, glanced over at her daughter, and the little girl promptly rolled up the window of the beat-up station wagon. She never liked it when Mommy was mad, and neither did Daddy.

Her mother was right, though, Sybill decided as she glanced at the cracked speedometer. Its gauge ticked just over the eighty mark. Although she liked feeling the warm wind on her skin, one little bump could have sent her flying out of the worn car. Sybill gripped her seat belt a little tighter at that thought; the strap had been a comfort to her ever since she had begun to ride in the front seat. Her mother wasn't exactly the safest driver.

"Mommy, where are we going? And why are we going so fast?" Sybill said, trying not to shout over the roar of the engine.

Mrs. Trelawney tucked a stray dirty-blonde curl behind her ear, and the car momentarily swerved. "The dry cleaner's. I have a dress that I have to snag for tomorrow's luncheon that I just wasn't able to get to until now. That oven took me forever to fix."

Her mother, despite criticism from the other neighborhood ladies, had always had an affinity for tools, despite the fact that she was a secretary. The woman had spent all day fixing their dilapidated oven so she could finish cooking the meal for the luncheon. Sybill had watched her mother, in awe of the way she held a monkey wrench so delicately, but had brutally ripped the appliance apart and stitched it back together.

Her mother was a magician with tools. She had to be, because Mr. Trelawney was never really home, always off supposedly doing work. Sybill knew he really wasn't. Even as a nine year old girl, she could tell when he lied about where he was, saw the smudge of lipstick on his tie, and smelt the remnants of a perfume that wasn't her mother's.

And Sybill knew her mother knew. Mrs. Trelawney would often turn her cheek, a sorrowful yet cold look on her face when her husband gave her that half-hearted peck everyday when he came home late. To her, that peck was more shameful than the affair. He was still attempting to hide what the rest of the world already knew: he was a cheater, a fraud, a fake. And he didn't give a single damn.

"I wish your father would stop being such a cheapskate and just buy a new one already. It would have saved me so much time, and we'd already have this errand done." Her mother huffed, inadvertently blowing a curl away from her face. Sybill had always loved her Mommy's hair; it was so bouncy and curly. She wished to have it when she was older.

As Sybill's thoughts trailed back to their quick stop to the dry cleaner's, she began to feel strange, dizzy, and slightly out of it. The strange feeling washed over her and a quiet mumble escaped her lips.

"What was that, sugar?" her mother asked, her brows furrowing as she struggled to hear her daughter over the roar of the engine.

And Sybill did speak up, a hurried jumble of words in one breath that Mrs. Trelawney was able to piece together.

She let out a rather forced laugh, the blood draining from her face as her grip tightened around the wheel. The woman couldn't exactly gather her thoughts, or an answer.

"Mommy...what happened?" Sybill asked quietly, not understanding why she had felt so strange, and why she couldn't remember a single thing after that feeling.

"Y-You played a very funny prank on Mommy, saying that Daddy was with another lady outside the store." She forced another laugh.

Sybill's blood ran cold. She hadn't remembered saying that; in fact, she didn't remember much from that moment at all, other than the fact that she felt weird.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know I said that," Sybill quickly replied, her hazel eyes flicking downwards to the torn leather seat she sat on.

Her mother was silent for a few minutes, pursing her pink lips into a tight line, deep in thought. Sybill wasn't able to decipher what exactly she was thinking, but she knew it wasn't good.

Finally, the woman replied, "It's fine, sugar. Don't you worry about it."

But no matter how hard they tried, neither of them could follow that advice.

 **.x.X.x.**

The moment their beat-up station wagon rolled to a grinding halt outside the dry cleaner's, Sybill got that strange feeling again. It wasn't the dizzying feeling this time; instead, it was a wave of nausea. She felt ominous, like something bad was about to happen. She hoped with everything inside her that she was wrong.

No such luck.

As soon as Mrs. Trelawney put the car in park, her hazel eyes zeroed in on two figures passionately kissing in the backseat of the automobile parked in front of them. She opened her mouth to say something, but the words died on her tongue.

Sybill's stomach flipped as she recognized her father's dark hair, and the fiery red hair of one of their neighbors, Julia Rothschild.

"Mommy, I…" Sybill trailed off, unable to finish what she wanted to say. What _could_ she say? Her mother had just caught her husband cheating on her; there wasn't a word strong enough to take away that pain. Sybill may have been young, but she was mature enough to understand that.

Mrs. Trelawney's eyes turned steely. "Sugar, stay in the car." She wrenched open the door, her heels hitting the pavement, and in one smooth move, she was out of the car and storming to the trunk.

Sybill craned her neck to get a glimpse of her mother pulling a tire jack out of the trunk, then hurrying over to the car in front of them where her father was beginning to unbutton Julia's blouse. She wanted to look away; she didn't want to see him betray her mom that way. But for some reason, she couldn't.

"Winston!" her mother screeched, her face contorted in rage as she slammed the tire jack against the back window. Cracks spiderwebbed across the glass. Her father sat up from where he was pressed against his mistress, sputtering in shock.

Sybill unbuckled her seatbelt, and climbed out of the car, intent on stopping her mother before she did something rash that might get them in trouble with the law.

"I have turned a blind eye to this in the past, but now...I-I just can't, Winston." Mrs. Trelawney let out a sob, choking on her own anger. Her husband and Julia simply stared, mouths agape. "We've been to a counselor. I talked to the other secretaries. I even read a book. Winston, I did _everything_ for this marriage, and what have you done? _What have you done?"_

Sybill's mother slammed the tire jack on the trunk of the car, the metal denting underneath the pressure.

"I didn't even do it for you. The love died a long time ago. I did it for your daughter. I held this together for _her._ You just never cared about her." Her mother laughed hysterically, the tears flowing freely now.

Sybill was in shock. She hadn't known that her parents had seen a marriage counselor, or that her mother was only with her father for her. She was astounded. How much had her mom suffered for her?

"Katherine, please…" Winston begged, pushing Julia off of him and stumbling out of the car. He put his hands out in front of him; a peace offering of sorts. "Put that thing down. We can talk about this."

Katherine sniffled once, wiping her cheeks angirly. "I don't want your words. I want you out.'

"What do you—"

"No. You have three days to get out of my house, understand?" she growled, throwing the tire jack at his driver seat window, watching as the glass shattered upon impact. She sullenly wiped her nose with the sleeve of her dress, looking more defeated and exhausted than she ever had. Katherine felt someone's cold, tiny hand slid into hers, and glanced down to find Sybill crying as well, her wide-rimmed glasses dotted with tears.

"Let's go, sugar," she murmured, tucking a stray dirty-blonde curl behind her daughter's ear as she led her away from her spluttering soon to be ex-husband. She was still going to get her party frock; Katherine would be damned if this prevented her from having fun. Her marriage may have been over, but hell would freeze over before she let Sybill suffer.

"I-I'm sorry I was right, Mommy. I'm sorry," Sybill bawled quietly as they hurried towards the dry cleaner's.

As the pair walked into the building, Katherine glanced down at her child with a melancholy smile. "You were right, sugar. You were right, but that's okay. Because sometimes it's all just meant to be, and you just see those things clearer than everyone else."

Sybill buried her head in her mother's chest, letting her brush out her frizzy hair. Someday, when she was older, she wanted to inherit her strength, just like she wanted to inherit her beautiful dirty-blonde curls.

 **.x.X.x.**

"So...yes, Albus. That wasn't the first time I've prophesied about something."

Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, was dumbfounded. When he interviewed Sybill Trelawney for the position of professor of Divination, he hadn't expected much. Sure, she was a talented witch with her spell-casting abilities, but he hadn't thought her qualified for the position she applied for.

Until Sybill had spat out a prophecy about the return of a certain someone Dumbledore had hoped to never hear of again, but he knew that hope had been a fool's wish. He knew that her life could be at risk after saying the words she just had. Albus vowed that no more innocents would be lost in this war; though if Sybill took the job here, she wouldn't be an innocent anymore.

"You realize, with what you have just foretold, you are in great danger," Albus said quietly, stroking his beard as thoughts ran round his head.

Sybill looked down, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the desk as she thought over his words. "I know," she replied sullenly.

Albus let out a slow and steady breath, knowing what he had to do. She wasn't a very good Seer, but she would get the job done. And besides, he couldn't allow an innocent woman to be slaughtered by forces outside her control.

"What would you say if I offered you a job here, Ms. Trelawney?"

A slow grin spread on Sybill's lips as she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "I'd say yes in a heartbeat."

"Then welcome to Hogwarts, Sybill." And as he shook her hand, Sybill silently closed her eyes, thanking her mother for the strength she was given.

 **.x.X.x.**

 **AN: This is not canon compliant. This was just a fun idea I had to give Sybill a backstory.**

 **For Sienna. Even when everything seems like it's falling apart, it may actually be coming together. Fall nine times and rise ten.**

 **Thanks to Di and Vic for Beta-ing!**

 **{Also, Vic, I hope you appreciate my 1984 references in there}**

 _{Word Count} 1,938_

 _The Room of Requirement:_

 _{Wand's Wood}_ Walnut: Write about a Ravenclaw.

 _QFLC:_

 _Tutshill Tornados, Keeper. March: Sybill Trelawney_

 _The Golden Snitch {Vela, Aurora}_

 _{Through the Universe} 69. Galactic Halo — (word) mothering_

 _{World Doll Day} Teacher: Write about a Hogwarts (or other school) professor._


End file.
